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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23081923">Forces Of Nature</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mamogirl/pseuds/Mamogirl'>Mamogirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Backstreet Boys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Brian centric story, Briangst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Sort of AU, Thriller, more to be added - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:01:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,824</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23081923</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mamogirl/pseuds/Mamogirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone believed that they have Brian Littrell figured it out: among the five members, he was the least problematic and the one that seemed to have the perfect life. The one that seemed to have had the perfect and happiest childhood, with two loving parents and a tight relationship with his brother. </p>
<p>But things aren't always what they seemed and threads of the past have been kept hidden so well that even Brian had managed to forget. Until someone decided that it was time to undiscover the truth and started a game of revenge, where the ultimate prize was life. Or death.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nick Carter/Brian Littrell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Prologue</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>1979</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The woman looked around, taking it the scenery that she was about to leave behind: it wasn’t really much but it had been her home for the longest time. It had been their home, although it never seemed to be the perfect place for kids:. But she had tried her best to make it look more comfortable, safer.</p>
<p>Safe. That was an interesting choice of word. Nothing in their lifestyle would have been defined “safe” for kids, especially for those little ones that loved running around and picking up things that shouldn’t have been left around.</p>
<p>Sometimes she thought she made a mistake. Sometimes, lots of times, she told herself that she needed just a little bit of luck, one thing going in the right place and she would be able to turn her life around, making it better for those souls that had never asked to be brought in a situation like that. Sometimes she would just let her fantasy running wild. Imaging herself in a world were love wasn’t that hard to receive and she was living in a perfect small house, white fences and a backward big enough for her kids to run and play just like everyone else. But, every time, real life banged and shattered her fantasies, reminding her that it would take more than a dream to change everything.</p>
<p>“Are you ready, woman?”</p>
<p>There had been times when she had loved him. Truly and completely loved him. He was the father of her two sons; he was the one that had managed to take her away from her broken family and he was the only one who had looked her in the eys and told those few words that meant the whole universe. That was all it took for her to give up hopes and dreams: a <em>“I love you</em>” was all it took to blindly follow a man into depth of despair and loneliness.</p>
<p>Oh, there had been happy times. The very first months of their relationship had been full of moments that could have been ripped off a cheesy movie or a romance book: long chats through phones; walks and walks where they talked about everything, shared their hopes for the future and imagined a life together. It had been perfect. He had been the perfect gentleman, always taking her to the most beautiful places and telling her that she deserved all the good in the world.</p>
<p>She had been such a fool. She had let herself be fooled because he was so charming, those blue eyes that managed to penetrate her deepest walls and a smile that was able to make her forget about the shitty cards life had handled her. He was still so charming, even now that love had disappeared and all was left was a string of secrets that would keep them together until their deaths. But gone now where the promises of a good life, of never be worried about money and bills because she would have been taken care of: most of the times, though, they barely had food and all that small money she managed to keep hidden from him were used for the children, who always seemed to need something she wasn’t able to give them.    </p>
<p>But that was the reason why they were leaving. That was the reason why they were leaving that world behind: to find something better, to find a place where past and history couldn’t stand between them and their desire, their longing, for a better life.</p>
<p>Was it enough, though? Was it enough to justify why they were leaving someone else behind?</p>
<p>
  <em>“You know it’s the only option.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Option? Option? It’s your son! How can you leave him behind so easily?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“He’s not my son.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The sentence had been pronounced with a dead tone, as though as there were no objections to be made at that simple truth. It didn’t take much intelligence to understand that there might be some sort of truth behind those words and that was just by looking at father and son standing next to each other: where one was dark haired and with such deep and emotionless eyes, the little boy had blonde hair and the lightest shade of blue. They didn’t look alike, whereas the other son and father looked as though they had been made by the same mold. The woman had hoped that genetics and dna wouldn’t be such obstacles, after all her own parents had never been the perfect role model. The woman had hoped that his partner would be steal away by the lightness and genuine good that her youngest son seemed to embrace since his birth: that son, that little boy, had been the true light in her dark and battered reality, a glimpse of hope for a brighter future. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Why couldn’t he see it? Why couldn’t he get past something so shallow, a nuisance that couldn’t take away the years they had spent together. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You’re the only father he had even known. Don’t you feel anything for him?” Even before the question had left her lips, she already knew the answer: no, he had never felt anything for that little kid, if not annoyance and frustration because he didn’t seem to follow his brother’s steps. Tyler had been the perfect son, having embraced the same mean strike and violence of the father, never wanting to play with the younger but, instead, trying every way to make his life even more miserable.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“It’s his fault, and you know it. He’s the one who called the police and he’s the reason why we have to leave.”</em>
</p>
<p>It happened not that long ago. There had been one of their parties, one when they wouldn’t just invite their friends but whoever was willing to pay for something a little stronger and powerful. They were usually careful. She had been careful from the first time she had become a mother, knowing that their lifestyle wasn’t suit for little kids but still wanted to keep them safe and protected.</p>
<p>Not that time.</p>
<p>Hadn’t it been for her youngest, the woman wouldn’t even be alive. He had called the ambulance and that small phone call had saved her life, even though had serious consequences on their family. Social services had been called, her little one had been placed into someone else’s custody because the father had wanted nothing to do with him.   </p>
<p>Oh, she was proud. Her youngest had already proved that he was nothing like his father, not even his mother because she didn’t know if she would have the courage to do what he did at such a young age.</p>
<p>But that act of courage had come with an high price. They couldn’t keep living there, not with social services breathing down their necks and their business already suffering from that last blown.</p>
<p>Maybe that would have been the perfect moment to change their life but she didn’t have the same strength her son had.</p>
<p>The woman got down on her knees, keeping he arms around the little boy’s shoulder. How was she going to explain what was about to happen? How was she supposed to tell her son that they were indeed leaving, but he had to stay on his own? How was she supposed to make him believe that it was for his own good and that, no matter what, she loved and she would always love him? Her own heart was breaking underneath the agony of those next minutes and seconds; her own voice was struggling to find the right words. But she had to. She had to tell him what he had to, where he needed to go so that he would be safe. That was all it mattered to her. Even if it meant staying apart from her own flesh; even if it killing herself because there was no harder thing than to let behind a piece of her heart, she knew that that gesture was also a gift of love: her little boy was going to have the chance to live what a normal life would have been; her little boy was going to have two parents that, hopefully, were going to give him what his real mother and father hadn’t been able to.</p>
<p>It was the right thing to do.</p>
<p>“Mum?”</p>
<p>“You need to listen to me very carefully, okay?”</p>
<p>The little boy could only nod, confused and puzzled to what was going on. Why were dad and Tyler taking their things to the car? Why no one had told him to do the same? Where were they going? Why was his mom looking so hurt, almost to the brink of crying? He wanted to comfort her, he wanted to give her his only friend, that doggy peluche that had never left his side, but something made him just stand there and wait for what was about to come.</p>
<p>“We are going away. Dad.. dad and I need to get away from here because some people are a little angry with us.”</p>
<p>“It’s because of what I did? I’m sorry, mom, I was just...” Tears started to enveloped the boy’s voice, breaking into a string of words running after each other. Tyler had been right, he was only able to cause problems.</p>
<p>It was all his fault.</p>
<p>“Oh no, baby boy. - The woman placed a hand on the boy’s cheek, caressing that smooth skin that she would never caress anymore. - You did right. You saved mom and that’s all that matters. Don’t ever feel guilty about it.”</p>
<p>“So why are you going?”</p>
<p>“We have to. We must to and... - The woman’s voice break broke, as if it didn’t want to say those next words. - ... and you can’t come with us.”</p>
<p>“Mommy, please... I’ll be good. Please, tell daddy I’ll be good. I wanna come too.”</p>
<p>“It’s too dangerous, baby. You need to stay here and be a good boy. Can you do that?”</p>
<p>“But... Ty is coming too...”</p>
<p>“He’s older. You need to listen to me and be a good boy, can you promise me this?”</p>
<p>“But...”</p>
<p>“There’s no much time left. Promise me. Promise mom that you’ll always be a good boy. No matter what.”</p>
<p>The little boy couldn’t stop the tears coming. He didn’t want to cry, not when his mom wanted him to be a good boy. But he didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t want to be left behind. But he loved his mom and, in the end, he only nodded.</p>
<p>“I need to hear it, Brian.”</p>
<p>It was serious if his mom used his name instead than all those little names she was used to. “Okay. I’ll be a good boy. - He promised, biting down his lip. - But who is gonna stay with me? I don’t wanna be alone.” It was just a whisper, nothing more than a soft voice but it sounded as a scream within those silent walls.</p>
<p>“You’re not going to be alone. Here, take this. - From a pocket, the woman took a white envelope and put it inside Brian’s hand. - Remember that lovely woman that looked after you while I was sick?”</p>
<p>“Mrs. Littrell? Am I going to stay with her?”</p>
<p>“Yes. Go and give her this letter. I’ve already talked to her but this should be enough. - The woman wrapped her son in the tightest hug, breathing in his perfume and almost willing to find another option, another plan that included him. But there wasn’t. There wasn’t a plan safe enough for that little boy, who would never know why his father hated him so much. She was protecting him. She was making sure he was going to live and grow and become, perhaps, a way better person and human being. - I love you so much, Brian. Don’t ever forget that.”</p>
<p>It was now time for the goodbyes. From outside came the yelling, the warning that they only had a couple of minutes before he would be back inside and not for saying goodbye to this youngest son. The woman took in every little feature, every small detail that would kept the boy’s image safe into her memory and heart: he was going to be beautiful when he would grow up, stealing away the girl’s heart and she hoped he would find someone who was going to fill and heal that hole she was about to burn into his heart and soul. Silently, she wished him all the good and all the best but, mostly, she wished and she hoped that he would never find himself on her same path, selling his soul to a numbing drug only because she didn’t want to deal with the world.</p>
<p>As the woman reached and got into the car, letting her tears streaming down her face and never looking behind, she hoped that she’d be given the chance to see her little boy someday in the future.</p>
<p>
  <em>Be always a good person, Brian. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">First Chapter</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>2013</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The morning had started with a shining sun relaxing in its favorite position there up in the sky, which had suddenly become an endless blue ocean where not even a single cloud could be seen. Down in the streets, people were walking by, never looking around: some looked as though they were in a hurry, rushing to their workplace or to the next appointment they have in that busy morning; some looked as if they didn’t have anywhere to go, shuffling around shops and café while talking at the phone or with their friends. Bars and restaurants were already full: businesses were made and hands were shaken in front of a cup of coffee and a cold breakfast; families were trying to entertain the kids, hoping for a couple of minutes of breath before jumping into new adventure and a tour of the city; lonely hearts were beating through chats and texts, still unsure if it was fair or right to meet in reality. At one of the tables at one corner, standing right in front of the big windows, a young woman was looking outside, mindlessly observing people walking by or stopping and waiting for the streetlight to turn green.</p>
<p>She had loved being in the city, breathing life every day instead than being isolated in a small house in the countryside: the air filled with anticipation and excitement; invisible clouds, full of hopes and dreams, following men and women as they crossed everyone’s lives, never fully getting how close they might to be to meet that someone that could change their present and future. The first years had been a blur of meetings, of following around whoever promised her something worth, that something that she had been looking for since she had made the decision of becoming a journalist: her teachers had always encouraged her writing; had nursed her confidence by envisioning a future full of big titles and awards and, ultimately, had pushed her to run away from her small town and step into the big city, made of lights and stars. As if she had been kissed by a lucky star, she immediately found a job that paid nothing but was a promising stair to the big names.</p>
<p>A couple of years later, though, nothing had changed: she was still there, writing whatever was thrown at her desks but no one had seemed to notice her skills and, little by little, her confidence had started to wave and was now about to reach the lowest point. New faces had appeared, new voices were louder than her and, sometimes, she thought that it wasn’t worthy anymore. What was the point of keeping staying there when she could barely afford that tiny flat? What was the point if she couldn’t go out, have a drink with friends because money was always too much tight?</p>
<p>A hit news. That was what she needed. A big news, something that no one in the city was already breathing and whispering in the dark hallways and in those places that she had never been invited into. She needed just that chance, that opportunity that she had what needed to be a real journalist.</p>
<p>But she didn’t know where to start looking. It was hard, now, to be one foot ahead of everyone. Social medias had changed the rules of the game, giving people the opportunity to own their truth and to handle the narrative as they wanted. Journalists had to scrap the bases, scratching away the shining covers to see if something could be found. But it didn’t seem to matter anymore because everyone, even a lonely teenager, could write something and be praised of.</p>
<p>But she didn’t want to lose hope. She wanted to make her dream come true.</p>
<p>With a sigh, Jacqueline Miller returned her attention to her computer. The blank page kept staring back at her, the blinking arrow just wanting to start typing something. Any words at all. Her boss was waiting for her piece, something about the latest gossip running around the city but, and that was the hard part of that assignment, it had to be something no one had ever heard of.</p>
<p>
  <em>“I don’t want something already heard. Now days it’s so easy to join a discussion, adding facts that might be or not be true. Everyone can add their opinions. I want something new. I want something that would make people wonder how they didn’t know. Bring me something special. Something real.”</em>
</p>
<p>It shouldn’t had been such a hard task. She had an endless world to throw around but, as much as she tried to come up with something, it seemed as if it had already been written. Maybe not on real newspaper but, around the internet, there was a forum or a blog that had already dusted off a basket of things never been heard before.</p>
<p>She didn’t lack courage. She didn’t lack skills and a voice. She just lacked money and resources, that was the big difference. How would she be able to undercover something unheard and unseen if she didn’t know anyone?</p>
<p>A loud bang on the table made her jump out of her thoughts. A big yellow envelope had landed on her computer, as though as if it had been launched from up above. Jacqueline didn’t believe in supernatural messages and all the shit about guardian angels, but this did look as if someone had heard her. Instead of an angel, though, standing in front of her, was a stranger man.</p>
<p>“Sir, you’ve probably made a mistake…”</p>
<p>“Are you Jacqueline Miller?”</p>
<p>“Yes, but...”</p>
<p>“And you’re a journalist looking for a story.”</p>
<p>“How do you know that?”</p>
<p>“Then no, I don’t seem to have made a mistake. This is for you.” The mysterious man pointed to the big brown envelope that was still on the computer.</p>
<p>“What is this?”</p>
<p>“This is the story you are looking for. This is the story I need you to write. See? It works perfectly.”</p>
<p>Jacqueline still didn’t know if she could trust that stranger. From the appearance, he looked as though he belonged to the upper side of the city, that side where no one had ever had a problem with money and getting what they wanted: the tailored suit, the golden and big watch on his right wrist, the perfect hair cut that seemed to be worth hundreds dollars. She had been taught not to listen to stranger but how could she refuse the opportunity she had been looking for so long? With a sigh, she reached for the mysterious package, wanting to get a glimpse of the story she was needed to write but the man prevented her to do so.</p>
<p>“Oh no. You’ll get to read it only if you accept my proposal.”</p>
<p>“I have to accept it blindly?”</p>
<p>“I’ll be paying you very profusely.”</p>
<p>“That’s not my ethic.”</p>
<p>“And what’s your ethic? Tell me, miss Miller. How has it been working for you?”</p>
<p>“Well, I...”</p>
<p>“I’ll tell you how it has been working. It hasn’t. You’ve been struck into being the one everyone turn to when there is the last Kardashian gossip to report. Ten years in the city and none of the big name in the journalism know yours. - The man looked directly into Jacqueline’s eyes, telling exactly as it was. The naked truth. - I’m giving you that chance. But it comes with a price.”</p>
<p>“And the price is to write something unethical?”</p>
<p>“It’s not always black and white. There is just one right and one wrong. There are nuisances.”</p>
<p>“It’s legal, at least? Will I be ruining someone’s life?”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about that. I’ll be dealing with all this technically stuff. I just need you to write this article.”</p>
<p>What did Jacqueline have to lose? She needed the money, there was no other way to keep living in that city. She needed to prove to the world what kind of journalist she was; she needed to prove to herself that she had always been right about having the talent, and the skills, to make it through. What did she have to lose? In the worst scenario, she would have to go back to her hometown but that was already the kind of future prospected if she didn’t find something very soon. In the best scenario, instead, she would come out as a winner, and with money to keep going for a while.</p>
<p>She could be famous.</p>
<p>“Is it just one article?”</p>
<p>“For now.”</p>
<p>“So, it means that I’d be expected to write more.”</p>
<p>“You will be paid. I’m a man of word.”</p>
<p>“And does this man have a name?”</p>
<p>A malicious grin appeared on the stranger’s face. “That is something I can’t share. For now.”</p>
<p>Something, a tiny small voice, was telling Jacqueline not to fall into that rabbit hole. A stranger who didn’t want to share his name? Accept to write an article without even knowing what was it about? What if it was a rapist’s defense? What if it was to justify something cruel and mean? Did she really wanted to betray her moral code just for money? Was she that desperate?</p>
<p>Her fingertips traced the line of the yellow envelope, almost as if she could see through it and learn what it was about. What if it wasn’t something bad? What if it was about exposing a crime and make criminals pay for their crimes? Wasn’t that the reason that made her fall in love with journalism? Wasn’t being able to look deeper, to sort through glimpse of reality, the reason why she loved so much her job?</p>
<p>Now she had the chance to leave her footprint in the sand. Now she had the opportunity to make her words worth something, almost to the point that she could save a life. Wasn’t there nothing more noble than that?</p>
<p>Also, she was desperate.</p>
<p>And, in the end, that had been what made her take that chance, wishing and hoping that she wouldn’t regret it.</p>
<p>“I’m in.”</p>
<p>“Good choice miss Miller. - The man took something from the inside pocket of his jacket, a white envelope that then trusted in front of Jacqueline. - I think this should cover as first installment. You’ll get the rest when the article would be published. And a bonus if it excels my expectations.”</p>
<p>He knew that she was going to accept his offer. He had made hundreds of researches, looking exactly for someone like that girl: someone who was barely getting by, scratching at very bottom of the ledge and desperately looking up wishing there was a way to be up there. He needed someone like that girl, young and so eager to have her name up in the sky, because she was the type of person that wouldn’t be stopped by morals and ethics. Not that what he wanted to do could be defined like unethical and immoral: he just wanted the truth out; he just wanted for a certain someone to take off his mask of the perfect golden boy and be seen by who he really was.</p>
<p>He wanted him to pay for having walked out and never looked back to where he had always belonged.</p>
<p>Jacqueline took the envelope and looked inside, barely hiding a curse as she counted all the money. That was more than she had ever made in the last few years. Hell, that was more than she would have ever made if she stayed stuck in her petty role.</p>
<p>And it was only the beginning.  </p>
<p>“There are also some a few conditions, though.”</p>
<p>“What are?”</p>
<p>“First, you don’t talk about this with anyone. Not even your cat.”</p>
<p>“I don’t have a cat.”</p>
<p>“Well, not even to a ball of dust passing by through your flat.”</p>
<p>Jacqueline wanted to reply that her flat was quite clean; as a matter of fact, she was a pretty neat person, almost borderline OCD, but she bit her tongue back. “Gotcha. Not talking. Is there something else?”</p>
<p>“Yes. Once you’ve accepted, you can’t back out. No matter what you’ll be asking to write. Or do.”</p>
<p>“I don’t do illegal things.”</p>
<p>“I’m not asking that. Yet.”</p>
<p>“What are those things I’m expected to do?”</p>
<p>“There’s a plan, things to put in motion. I’m not paying just for one article, sweetie. Do you have any more question or can we close this?”</p>
<p>“Just one. Why me, though?”</p>
<p>“Why you what?”</p>
<p>“Why did you choose me?”</p>
<p>“Oh, miss Miller. - The man got up and closed the button of the jacket, already looking out as if he had somewhere else much more important to be at that moment. - Don’t think of yourself as special. You were just the first of my list.” And with that, he was gone. The ball had been kicked and the plan, that he had been worked on for the past years, had been put in motion.</p>
<p>And hell was going to break loose.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>*********</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jacqueline rushed back home, not trusting to open that precious and mysterious envelope so out in the open. It was true that no one really had noticed her before: she had always felt as though she was a ghost, hunting around the city, desperately wanting to be seen and heard but rarely receiving so much more than a glance. And, maybe, that had been the reason why she had been chose for that strange assignment.</p>
<p>No one was ever going to care about her.</p>
<p>She was almost scared to find out her assignment. Why did she ever accept to that crazy story? She knew, in her heart, that she was going to write some kind of defense about some crazy psycho who had just murdered his entire family.</p>
<p>But she couldn’t back down. The weight of the money inside her jacket reminded her. She took that money out and laid it on the table: it was enough to get her going for a while. It was enough to satisfy some thirst for books and clothes that she had been craving for so, no, for too long. It was enough to call up her only friend and invite her out for a couple of drinks: she could imagine what her reactions would be, pestering her about that secret project she had taken on.</p>
<p>But she couldn’t tell.</p>
<p>No, it was best to keep it to herself and, maybe, call her up when that weird project would be finally over.</p>
<p>If she would be still alive.</p>
<p>Jacqueline brushed that thought away. She wasn’t going to be killed. She wasn’t getting inside a mafia organization. It was just some crazy lunatic that had something to tell and no one was listening to him. Yes, that story was seriously better, especially if someone would come up and ask her about it.</p>
<p>With a sigh, Jaqueline took the jacket off and strolled into the kitchen, warming up some water to make herself a tea. She had enough free time to bake some cookies but the curiosity for what was waiting for her in that envelope was too much to resist: baking could wait, she needed to know. A quick change into a much more comfortable loose sweatshirt and a pair of old gym pants, her long auburn hair put in a loose bun, and she was ready to tackle that mystery. Her fingers were almost shaking as the knife cut through the paper, revealing a stash of documents: pictures greeted her, adoption papers and various interviews spiked up her curiosity and, at the same time, reveal a hint of disappointment.</p>
<p>That was her big news?</p>
<p>That was the story that was going to make her known in the news?</p>
<p>That was the big reveal?</p>
<p>Well, it was kind of interesting, she had to admit. It wasn’t about someone really famous, the kind of name that screamed for money even for the smallest gossip. But it was still interesting. It might turned out to be much bigger than she could expect and it all came down to her ability to spike the reader’s curiosity: it would took just entrancing the right person, the kind that had thousands of followers and her article would be travelling the world, getting hits and shares.</p>
<p>But why would someone go to those lengths, all secrets and mysteries, just for the backstory of a Backstreet Boys? The way the stranger had spoken about it led her thinking that there was much more behind it, something maybe more personal. It seemed some kind of revenge, although it was hard to understand the reason about it: no matter from which angle one would look at, it was just a sad story. Yet, she needed to make it look like as though the once popstar was the bad one, the villain of that tale of abandonment and loneliness. </p>
<p>The real question, though, was if that story would be enough for the world to finally acknowledge her presence.</p>
<p>And, with that doubt still lingering in the back of her brain, Jacqueline turned up the laptop and started putting down ideas and words. No matter what her thoughts and considerations were, she had a job to do.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I added the AU tag not only because of Brian's backstory but also because there is no Leighanne (as in Brian's wife, her name is still going to pop up now and then), no Lauren, no Baylee. I usually imply their no presence but this time I wanted to make sue about how they are not going to be part of this sort of universe, which is why there is the "sort of AU" tag. <br/>Also, yes, given the year I've chosen, Brian's voice issues are going to be part of the story. (let's just double the angst, right? lol)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Chapter Two</span>
</p>
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<p>The conference room was almost full at its capacity: it almost looked as though the old days were back, back when the group had such a whole crew to set up and decide all of their moves. But it wasn’t like that anymore, only a few people had been entrusted with that kind of duty and responsibility, although the final word landed upon the five members: after almost twenty years of being part of the industry; after being handled by a label that had looked more after its interests instead than theirs; after having fought so much to be free and independent, the five men had decided that it was time to take rein and control of their career and music. For the first time they were the ones calling the shots, especially now that they were dealing with something that had never happened before.</p>
<p>That particular meeting, though, had nothing to do with the upcoming album, the upcoming anniversary or how to break to the world that one of their voices wasn’t going to be the same for some time. Or how to break to the world, and to the fans especially, that two of them had finally come to their senses and realized what everyone had always known right from the start.  </p>
<p>That particular meeting, that morning, rounded on that crazy project that the group had decided to jump into to celebrate their twentieth anniversary: the documentary had already been in the moves since the end of the NKOTBSB tour, when they moved into a London for almost three weeks, laying down the first tracks of the new album and having with them the crew filming them. It had been an emotional journey, not only because that was the first time, in a long time, when they were back to be five: Brian’s revelation on the first night had been a cold shower; it had shook and turned upside down all of their convictions, bringing them even way more together than they ever felt before; Brian’s revelation had opened up old scars between him and Nick, finally letting them close enough to heal and bring up in the open all the unsaid left in the dark throughout the years of their distance. Brian’s revelation had brought them together in a way that none of them could had ever be able to even hope for. And now, in that particular morning, Brian and Nick were sitting close to each other, their heads close so that they could barely had to lean a little and whisper to each other as the voices grew and blended together, creating a cacophony of ideas that jumped from one to another end.</p>
<p>“We are here today to talk about what direction to take with the documentary.” Stephen, the director, stood up at the center of the room, capitalizing the attention of everyone.</p>
<p>“What do you mean? I thought it was already decided...” Kevin interrupted, voicing what everyone else was thinking too.</p>
<p>It hadn’t been easy getting used to having a camera following around almost every hour, capturing not only those moments that truly captured their essence as artists and members of a group, but mostly those that not many people would allow to be shared. Kevin’s gaze fell upon Brian, taking note on how tense he seemed to be although he was smiling and joking with Nick. Brian and his struggles had been the hardest part to get used to, and not just because there was a camera waiting to record every broken and shattered note. At first Brian had been reluctant to show his illness, almost demanding to be kept in the dark until he was sure of what therapy might work: they followed his lead, especially Nick that took upon himself the role of making sure that his lover’s wishes would be fulfilled. But one day Stephan had taken Brian alone, cornered him and still no one knew what had gone through the two men during that long discussion: they only knew that, once finished, Brian had been willing to show his fragilities to the fans, maybe for the very first time in his life.</p>
<p>And that, itself, had been some kind of miracle.</p>
<p>“Yes, it was.”</p>
<p>“Then what changed?”</p>
<p>“I think we are only scraping the surface of what this documentary can be. Let’s face it, if I was one of your fans, I would love to see more than just recording for the new album or telling the same story they knew through years and years.”</p>
<p>“What do you propose, then?”</p>
<p>“Your fans, any fans, are thirsty for information. They want to know you as you were their best friends, the same person they grow up with through these years. That is what we need to give them. A sense of who you are, as individuals and a group.”</p>
<p>“We already did those kinds of things. – Brian interrupted, his voice lacking the security and confidence he brought back in the day. Still, everyone turned their heads towards him, unfazed by the status of his voice and just listened to what he was about to say. – There were interviews, behind the music specials, books.”</p>
<p>“And they were all the same. Remember how many times we had to say if we prefer boxers or briefs?” Nick added, causing everyone to laugh at the memory.</p>
<p>“No, no. – Stephen objected. – What I want to do is something totally different from those. I want to go back to your roots. I want to show why each one of you had brought to the group and why there would never be a group without one or the other.”</p>
<p>It sounded inspiring. It sounded so different from the line of questions or special the group had been part of for the past twenty years. Back in the day, probably, there wasn’t that kind of attention for detail or for the essence of their personality, who they were before the Backstreet Boys mania exploded in the world: fans only needed to know the most basic information, as young as they were they didn’t want to listen to old stories or with a deeper substance. Back in the day, they didn’t own their own stories: they were part of a project and someone else dictated what was needed to be told and what needed to be hidden. Obscured by the eyes of those who were willing to spend hours in front of the tv or buy hundreds of copies of magazines.</p>
<p>Twenty years and the music world had changed. The audience had changed, the audience didn’t know exactly who the Backstreet Boys were, and if they want to attract the new generations, they had to let them know the whole story.</p>
<p>“Go on. What do you mean exactly?”</p>
<p>“How well do you know each other?”</p>
<p>“Is it a metaphorical question?” Nick asked puzzled.</p>
<p>“No, not at all. I’m serious. – Stephen replied. – How well do you think you know each other?”</p>
<p>“We’ve been together for more than twenty years. So, I say we pretty much know each other as family.” Aj replied, shifting on his chair and not really getting what was the point of that question.</p>
<p>“Then how well do you know each other’s history before you were a group?”</p>
<p>Silence followed up as an answer and Stephen knew he had hit the right spot. He had done his researches; he had watched hundreds and hundreds of interviews, taking notes of all the questions he would had asked and what kind of answers he would had loved to hear back. He knew exactly what he wanted to tell with that documentary, and it wasn’t just the story of one of the greatest boy band of all times. No, that had already been done over and over again. He wanted to tell their personal stories; he wanted to show to the world the kids behind the image of popstars and how they grew up, each one so differently and, yet, managed to become that tight family, not just members of a group.</p>
<p>Brian tensed up, unnoticed by Nick and the whole group attending the meeting. While he had accepted to share this new chapter of his life, that struggle that was looking as though it could damage his image and his role within the group, he was getting worried about the road that whole documentary was about to take. There were things he hadn’t wanted to share before, not even with Nick. Well, especially with Nick.</p>
<p>And those things needed to stay right where they belonged.</p>
<p>“I want to go to each birthplace. I want you to go there and recall your childhood: your dreams, your hopes. Your fears. I want you to tell the things that made you the person you are today. And not just to the world. Am I wrong saying that you have never thought of making this kind of memory trip lane?”</p>
<p>Everyone looked up to each other, the same answer written upon their faces. Those words rang true. They had never asked about their childhood, although they did share from times to times stories or anecdotes; there was never the time, since they were thrown in the work and business as soon as the group had been made. And, after, there had never been the time because life happened, stardom arrived and they had been thrown in something bigger: why, so, talking about the past when they could spend hours and hours talking about their bright futures?</p>
<p>There wasn’t a better time than that. The need for reconnecting was still longing and burning, it just had barely been feed with only three weeks of living together in London. They needed to spend more time together, away from what their lives had become and closer to how it had been in the beginning, when they had been just five kids hoping for a chance.   </p>
<p>Everyone cheered at that proposal. Everyone agreed at that trip and, soon, plans were about to be made because millions of details needed to be sorted out. Everyone was excited.</p>
<p>Everyone but Brian.</p>
<p>And, this time, it didn’t go unnoticed. Not by Nick, who looked even more bewildered and worried and tried to coerce some kind of reply but only got a somehow reassuring smile, a hand reaching out and stroking its opponent. It didn’t go unnoticed by Kevin, who kept his gaze upon the cousin and knew exactly why, among all of them, the only one who hadn’t spoken about that idea was indeed Brian.</p>
<p> </p>
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<p>∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞</p>
<p> </p>
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<p>Dark clouds were assembling up in the sky, even though for now it was just a far away patch and just a small group. It wouldn’t last long, that Brian knew for sure: soon, more brothers and sisters would be joining, and the clear sky would soon be turning into a black canvas.</p>
<p>He had basically rushed out the meeting room, aware of Nick and Kevin’s eyes burning into his back: he hadn’t wanted to offer an explanation, not to Nick because that was a whole gap in his past that wasn’t even supposed to come out like that.</p>
<p>Or ever.</p>
<p>But there was just one person Brian hadn’t wanted to talk and that was his cousin. Kevin knew. Kevin knew about all the reasons why Brian had always been so little keen into talking about his childhood. And Brian knew that Kevin was going to corner him into an unwanted discussion and that was the last thing he wanted to hear in that right moment.</p>
<p>“Nick is worried about you.”</p>
<p>Not such a luck, apparently. Brian sighed but still didn’t turn his back towards the source of that voice. Nick being worried wasn’t a news anymore. Nick hadn’t stopped being worried since that first night in London. Or, maybe, Nick hadn’t stopped being worried since the first time Brian’s voice had broken in the middle of a song, shattering a magic and an illusion that it lasted that long.</p>
<p>“I just needed air.”</p>
<p>“Because of what happened in that room?”</p>
<p>“You already seem to know, so why are you asking?”</p>
<p>Kevin took a step closer to Brian, unfazed by the witty sarcasm. He was used to it and it was just another confirmation of how stressed Brian was in that moment. “It doesn’t mean it willcome out, you know.”</p>
<p>“How can you be so sure?”</p>
<p>“If it hasn’t come out in more than twenty years, why now?”</p>
<p>A second of silence turned into a stretched minute. Brian’s mind was spinning around, not knowing exactly where to stop for a moment because too many voices were yelling and too many monsters were trying to come back to life. It was a risk going back and, no matter how much he loved his family and missed his parents, he had always tried to avoid it if it wasn’t necessary.</p>
<p>But now he couldn’t. There was no way out, he was one against four. And there was no way of getting out of it without explaining why he was damn against it.</p>
<p>Kevin didn’t let that silence stop him. Another step closer to the man, only inches were now separating them, and he could see how tensed and strained Brian’s shoulder were, the weight and pain of whatever was still trying to pull him underneath after so many years. Truthfully Kevin had never got the whole story and had never tried to coerce it out of the cousin’s lips, who had been set firmly about never mentioning it and act as if it had never happened. Who was he to object if that was what Brian wanted and needed? But it was still painful to know that something was still having so much power and control over him and still not being able to do absolutely nothing, if not trying to make him see that there was no shame in sharing that weight.</p>
<p>“I’m pretty sure that nobody remembers something that old. – Kevin added, trying to sound as sure as possible. It was true that no one had never connected the dots or had tried to make a scandal of that old story, but he could see why Brian didn’t want to risk it, especially now with all that he was already going through. – But would it be really that bad if Aj and Howie would know? If Nick would know it?”</p>
<p>“I... I’m not that Brian. I’ve never been that Brian.”</p>
<p>“No, that’s true. But it’s still something that made you the Brian you are now.”</p>
<p>“The abandoned kid who doesn’t let anyone close in fear of being left alone, you mean?” The sarcastic tone became colder, detached as if Brian wasn’t really talking about himself, but still rounded around a voice that held resentment and regret.</p>
<p>“I was thinking more of the Brian who isn’t just letting the world telling him how to live his life. Or how to stand up for himself.”</p>
<p>“You must know a different Brian.”</p>
<p>“Or maybe you are.” Kevin offered back the reply, hoping to finally see Brian smile a little. And he did, although that smile lasted only for a couple of seconds and then was gone, drowned by those thoughts that still clouded his mind.</p>
<p>“I’ve thought it, you know? I’ve asked myself so many times if I could... but I can’t. – Brian’s voice was just a whisper, that broken tone that didn’t come from a broken voice. It came from a broken soul. And that was still that heartbreaking as it had been several years ago. – I can’t face their reactions. I can’t face that look of pity.”</p>
<p>“You really think that Nick is going to pity you?”</p>
<p>“Who wouldn’t?”</p>
<p> “Brian, with everything Nick has gone through, I don’t think he would pity you.” Kevin didn’t know how to make Brian see how wrong he was. He guessed there was a part of him that still hadn’t dealt with his past, and he hoped that sooner or later it would come out with Brian’s therapist. Kevin guessed that there was so much unspoken, so much that still needed to come out and there was where that fear grew unstopped.</p>
<p>If he only could make Brian see how far from the truth he was!</p>
<p>“I... it’s not just that.”</p>
<p>“Do you really think that Nick is going to leave you for that reason?”</p>
<p>“No. – Brian admitted. – He is going to hate me because I didn’t keep my promise.”</p>
<p>“What promise?”</p>
<p>“Of never hiding something from him.”</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>The night had been colder than its cohabitant, a day that had been blessed with a clear sky and a warm sun. Yet, neither Brian and Nick really felt it, their bodies tangled up together that their own warmth managed to get underneath the skin and made them feel as if they were lying and soaking up under the summer sun. it was hard not to stay that close, not after all the years they had acted so stupidly in thinking that there was no way, or chance, for them to happen; it was hard to let go now that they were together, drinking away the regret for all that time wasted going after something that had never proved to be right: the illusion of being in love with someone else, when their souls had always tried to scream for each other; the self convincing that they could be just friends, never more or less than that. How many years that they had left behind. How many times they had been so close to realize that what they were always looking had always been right in front of their eyes. But now they were together and that was what it really mattered in the end. They could get back those moments. They could have years and years ahead of them and they were going to seize them, grab them before it was too late. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Nick’s arms were wrapped tightly around Brian, his chin resting upon his shoulder and lips brushing upon the skin, taking comfort and satisfaction on feeling shivers running up and down that body. Silence was a comfort in its own way, letting thoughts and reflections running after each other in complete harmony and freedom: there were so many things that Nick had wanted to ask, so many things he had wanted to make clear and explain. But there was something that mattered a little more, the whole reason why they had finally managed to stop being blind and letting themselves be finally that open with each other. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Bri?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yes?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Brian’s voice was just a whisper and it sill hurt to think that that was the way it was going to be for a while. But, at that moment, Nick focused on how warm it sounded, how it still held that southern accent that made his heart melt into a puddle of honey. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Can I ask you something?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Brian hummed back, feeling as relaxed as he had never been before. Inside that cocoon of arms and love, there was no need for his mind to keep going over and over troubles and struggles; inside Nick’s arms, Brian could finally found that safe port where he could rest and restore his strengths, because the day after was going to be hard. But, this time, he wasn’t going to face it all alone.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Why didn’t you trust us? - It wasn’t a slip of pronoun. There was no need, for Nick, to say that “me” that was implied in that us. – After all of these years, why keeping it a secret?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Brian didn’t answer immediately. He had wanted, though. His first instinct had been to lie, to object that it had never been about trust but just fear. But there had been a truth in that question: he hadn’t trusted them. He hadn’t trusted Nick because he had been afraid. And when someone is afraid, scared out of his mind, it wasn’t so easy how things could be totally different from what one had imagined. Brian didn’t reply immediately but, slowly, he turned around so that he could face Nick: he couldn’t help the smile brightening up his face; he couldn’t help but staring from a second and let himself be basked into that love that was shining through Nick’s eyes and that, finally, it was all directed to him. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“A part of my mind knew that I could trust you. A part of my soul knew that I wasn’t going to be left behind, even though at that time I didn’t know what I was finding myself against to.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“And the other part?” Nick asked, brushing Brian’s hair off from his eyes. He had always loved them, any shape and any colors although Brian had never been the one changing it so randomly. He loved them even now that they seemed frail and thin, even though they still held that same color of the sun and summer, of sand and gold.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I was scared. Something was going and no one could tell me what it was. Or why it was happening. So I acted as if nothing was going on, hoping that it would be over before any of you would actually realize that I was falling.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You should have come to me.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I... – Brian’s voice broke up right in the middle of that confession and the shame, this time, wasn’t easy to hide. He turned away his face, hoping that Nick wouldn’t able to see how embarrassed he felt, how angry and frustrated that situation made him feel. But it wasn’t enough because Nick’s lips followed him, brushing against his cheek and leaving a trail of butterfly kisses until he was sure that all of those negative emotions were only flying in the air around them. – ... I didn’t know if I could. I wasn’t sure you would listen.” There was so much more that Brian could say, so many things that could explain better his behavior but that would had meant reveling something even more difficult and harder. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And Brian wasn’t ready for that.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Oh Frick. – It was all Nick could say. All he could do was hold Brian a little tighter, as if that mere gesture could erase all those months filled with so much anguish and desperation. – Never again. Promise me. Never again.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Never again what?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Promise me you will never keep a secret from me.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Brian kissed Nick on his lips, a kiss full of all the words he wasn’t able to say in that moment. He knew he shouldn’t do it, he was already breaking it even before he had made that promise. But he didn’t want Nick to leave. He didn’t want him to leave him behind. “I promise.”</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tigger warning: child abuse</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Chapter Three</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
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<p> </p>
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<p>
  <em>The room had been sleeping in the darkness, aided by the fact that there weren’t windows that would benefit from the light of the stars and the moon; there was no sound although, if one would enter the room and listen really carefully, something could be heard: a faint and almost hushed erratic breathing. Only following that whisper one could discover its origin, coming from behind the old ragged couch: a little kid, curled up so that he could almost disappear, even though he was already so small, was hiding from the monster he was sure it was about to appear, out of the blue. He didn’t know what he had done wrong that time but, sometimes, an excuse wasn’t even needed: his own existence was already a justification, as though he held a mistake that didn’t even belong to him. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Hiding isn’t going to save you, you know.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>A whimper was the only answer. Trembles started to rage inside the little body as the balls of bones and muscles tightened up, hoping for some kind of miracle. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Or for someone to finally save him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Footsteps started to sound closer and closer, the clink of something metallic drew even more fear from the little boy’s mind. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Your brother told me what you did.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Those words managed to cut through Brian’s mind: of course, it had been Tyler the one spilling the truth to their father. Tyler’s dad, if he had to be honest: it was that a statement that he had been told since the first day he was old enough to understand why his father had never seemed to hug or play with him. He wasn’t his son. He was someone’s bastard, although Brian didn’t really know that word. He had tried to ask his mother for explanations, but she had never quite told him the truth about his real father, always tried to change subject or offer kisses and caresses to soothe that pain of knowing that his dad didn’t love him as much as his brother. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I hadn’t done anything.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It was true. Technically he hadn’t done anything, but he knew what had probably set off his father. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You disobeyed me once again.” The voice was closer, so much closer to hope for a sudden miracle. Brian could see his shoes appearing from the couch’s corner and he knew that he was just a second away from being found. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He should had stayed silent. But he couldn’t help it.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“How many times did I tell you that you can’t go there?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Mom said...”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I don’t care what your mother told you! – The yelling came before the first blown would fall, happening so quickly that Brian hadn’t been able to prepare himself for the hit. It hurt, just like always. And, just like always, he bit down the scream before his father would get even angrier. – You must obey me!”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>A part of Brian wanted to rebel. A part of Brian wanted to scream that he had run away just so that he didn’t have to stay with his brother or being treated like target by the man that was supposed to protect him from harm. But even as little as he was, Brian had already learned that rebelling was only going to get him even more in trouble.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’m sorry.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Sorry isn’t enough. You need to learn. – Each word was punctured with a blown to the point that Brian didn’t even know if his tears were from the pain or from the fear. Or probably bother. – Why can’t you be like your brother?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Because I’m not your son. Because you love him.” Brian wanted to say but he just kept his mouth shout, hoping and praying that it would soon be over.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Brian woke up with a start, a scream blocked between his lungs and throat. For a moment, all he could hear was the frantic beating of his own heart, pounding furiously against the rib cage almost as if it wanted to get out and run as far as possible. For an instant, although it seemed as stretched into an infinite series of seconds and minutes, it was hard to decipher what was real from what was just a losing thread of the nightmare: the darkness was the same, black and deep that it looked as though it had drowned every pieces of furniture; the silence was almost defying as it had been in the nightmare, as if it wanted to aid that little kid to hear if someone was about to get into and find him.</p>
<p>Brian tried to move, step outside from the chains of sheets tightened up around his legs, but something prevented him from do it.</p>
<p>Someone.</p>
<p>Panic set in, his mind turning around and round all the ways he could probably escape without getting noticed or, worse, without a bruise or a scrap. He had to look, though. He had to know how bad his situation was, although in the past he had been able to escape so much worse; he had to look, just so that he could at least guess what was that had put in trouble that time: was because he hadn’t cleaned the kitchen as requested? Was because he had been out again, staying as far as possible from harm? He had to know. He had to look and so, Brian sent a quick glance on the side that felt weighted down by something or someone.</p>
<p>Safe.</p>
<p>That was how he felt when he realized that it had all been a nightmare.</p>
<p>Safe.</p>
<p>That someone curled up against him wasn’t a monster holding him down. Oh, no. That someone was the one that had managed to take Brian’s panic and turned it into a river of relief.</p>
<p>Nick.</p>
<p>Nick was sleeping up against him like he used to do back in London, curled up around him as if he wanted to protect him from the dark clouds that blackened his mind and soul. And he was protecting Brian from something dark and mysterious, even though unconsciously and without really knowing from what. How did Brian manage through the years without that defense, without that safe place where he could remember that the past was still where it belonged, far away from his present and, especially, his future.</p>
<p>Brian leaned down, brushing his lips against Nick’s forehead and slipped away from the tangle of his arms, dreading if his lover was going to wake up. He wasn’t ready to tell him the reason of that nightmare. He wasn’t ready to explain himself why that kind of nightmare still held so much power over him after all those years or why it happened that very night.</p>
<p>He wasn’t just ready, and Brian hoped that, one day, Nick would comprehend all of his reasons.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nick waited until he heard the shower running before getting up. He sighed, longing to go inside that room and try to find whatever it was that kept Brian awake night after night. He had a half idea about it, he didn’t need to have a degree in psychology to find the correlation between those problems and those nights when sleep just didn’t want to stay there. But there was something more, although Nick couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. And it wasn’t as though he could go and ask Brian, for the only answer he was going to get would be a door slammed in the face, and a not so gentle and romantic <em>“it’s none of your business”.</em></p>
<p>No, that wasn’t true anymore. That had been maybe the way things had been back then, during those years when they were mere strangers to each other instead than best friends; it hadn’t been Brian the only one who had shut down every door, afraid of being hurt again and convinced that the other didn’t care at all.</p>
<p>Still, it was hard and more complicated for Brian to let himself be helped or comforted, no matter how many times Nick had promised that, this time, it was going to be different.</p>
<p>Nick retrieved his t-shirt, put it on, and then walked to the kitchen. Silently he started getting out a mug, Brian’s favorite, and put on the kettle for the water to boil. It was a sort of ritual, their ritual, although Nick was sure that Brian would never come out and explicitly said how he waited for that moment. It was something that started happening in London, although the roles had been reversed. It had been Brian the first igniting that tradition, back that first very night after he had just come out to everyone with his dysphonia. Now that Nick thought about it, it had been almost weird that had been Brian the one coming over to reassure and comfort him, while it should had been the opposite: after all, it was Brian the one going through that struggle.</p>
<p>And Nick had been shocked. Surprised. Not just by what Brian was going through but that Brian had come and looked for him, instead than going to Aj or Kevin. In the previous months they had been close, closer than they had ever been since the hiatus, but it had never been filled with secrets and confessions, just an agonizing dancing on their tiptoes, afraid that that frail balance could be broken with just a misstep. That night had been a turning point in their relationship, not only because it had been the beginning of something that went far deeper than a friendship: something had shifted, something had come out and sat down right in the middle of their two souls, bringing them closer and let them see those scars that hadn’t yet been able to heal. That had been the night when Nick had realized how little he knew about the older man, shadows and dark clouds that now were finally able to come out and be seen and heard.</p>
<p>Yet, the meeting of the morning had brought up something else. Nick had never really questioned or wondered about it: as deep as his thirst was to know everything about Brian, he had always been quite satisfied with what little Brian had told him, probably because he had been jealous to know that he had never been the very first best friend Brian had ever had. All he had wanted back then was to within Brian’s gravity, basking himself into the total devotion that Brian was giving him day after day. Just like one of their most famous song, Nick hadn’t cared much about Brian’s past as long as he kept standing there next to him and building a new whole chapter.</p>
<p>Oh, how naïve Nick had been!</p>
<p>That morning Nick had to sit there and watch Brian closing himself off even more at the mere suggestion of going back to their birthplace. Nick had to sit there and notice how tense Brian got, how he had clenched his jaw and mere nodded, as if he had to accept the decision made by the majority but still having too many doubts and objections to rise. Nick had to sit there and wonder, once again, how much he didn’t know about his partner, about that best friend of more than twenty years.</p>
<p>With a high sound, the kettle announced that the water was already boiling; Nick got brought from his thoughts and started to prepare Brian’s tea: that routine, that ritual, dated back in the very past, when he would bring Brian tea before the beginning of a show hoping that it would calm the man down. Wasn’t it sad, now, that one could look back at everything that had happened and wondered that, if someone had noticed those signs before, maybe Brian wouldn’t be in that position at the moment? They had always explained to themselves that it was just nerves, that positive anxiety before going up to the stage and give the best show ever; they always laughed about, even Brian would joke how it was that panic that prompted him to be the best, and as perfect as he could ever be, on stage.</p>
<p>How blind they all had been!</p>
<p>When Nick got back to the bedroom, Brian had already finished his shower and he was sitting on the bed, his hair still damp and a little bit of color was back on his skin, mostly for the high temperature of the water.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to always make me tea, you know?” Brian said, as he took the mug and held it with both hands and managed a tired and soft smile.</p>
<p>“As someone very smart told me once, tea is always the perfect cure for everything.” Nick replied, landing a butterfly kiss on Brian’s temple.</p>
<p>“Not everything.” Brian whispered, his throat reminding him that not even all the tea in the world was going to heal his problems.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t hurt to try.”</p>
<p>Brian didn’t answer, not wanting to bring down Nick’s enthusiasm. He was trying, and that was all he had asked and wanted from him. Although, if Brian had been to honest, he was gaining so much more than what he had predicted, or secretly wished: for the first time, Brian had become Nick’s first and most important project and all of his energies, physical and mental, had been focused upon his recovery.</p>
<p>Simply, Brian wasn’t used to. Brian wasn’t used to have someone taking care of him, devoted to him and to the task of looking after his sanity and health. Brian wasn’t used to that Nick, so tender and attentive that it was getting harder and harder holding up all of his walls.</p>
<p>But, as strange and weird it might be, it was also sweet. But, also, something that, maybe, in the future Brian could see himself starting to enjoy it. And, a part of his soul, was longing for that day to be sooner than imagined.</p>
<p>“You know what I was thinking?”</p>
<p>“You think?”</p>
<p>Nick laughed ironically. “That’s really funny.”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“But yes, I do think. And not just about you.”</p>
<p>“But I’m in 90 percent of your thoughts.”</p>
<p>“Yes, you are. – Nick leaned over and kissed Brian’s lips. – And 89,9 percent of those are x rated.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t have any doubt.” Brian replied with a grin.</p>
<p>“As I was saying... – Nick continued from when he had been interrupted, although another temptation was already growing within him: that desire to cover Brian’s body with his and make him forget all about whatever was that kept him so wounded up and tense; that longing of melting into only one being, as if that was the only way to discover what Brian was keeping so wrapped up underneath him. But Nick also knew that that was his partner was waiting, hiding inside their bubble of love and sex so that he didn’t have to think or protect himself anymore. - ... Stephen’s question today kinda struck a chord.”</p>
<p>Brian only hummed a sign of agreement while his lips started brushing Nick’s skin and his fingertips traced the lines of bones and muscles.</p>
<p>“Frick... – Nick moaned, almost ready to throw his conscience out of the window. - ... I’m trying to be serious.”</p>
<p>“I’m listening.” Brian whispered, every breath vibrating upon Nick’s skin and making him shiver in ways that it was almost impossible to describe.</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>Brian just raised his face, the gloom of pleasure darkening those blue eyes that Nick was almost sure held some kind of mystical and mysterious power. “I’m listening.” Brian repeated, yet looking at Nick as if he couldn’t understand why that conservation seemed so much more important than what he was doing.</p>
<p>“You know... about how much we know about each other before we met.” Nick said those words slowly, as if he was already anticipating and dreading Brian’s reaction. Apparently, he got none, given that Brian just kept staying there, fingertips never stopping their journey of discover upon Nick’s skin. But Nick knew he had hit a nerve, he recognized that sudden change inside Brian’s eyes, that blue being obscured by a thunder of grey for just a fraction of seconds.</p>
<p>“I know everything about you.” Brian replied in a soft tone, although he couldn’t say if it had been because of the conversation they were having or because his voice was already thinking about disappearing in a flash.</p>
<p>“You do. – Nick agreed. – But I don’t know you.”</p>
<p>“That’s bullshit. – Brian protested, forgetting all about what he was doing and sitting down in front of Nick. – You know me very well.”</p>
<p>“I know you from the day we met. – Nick pressed on, although that already sounded as a white lie. There were so many things that Brian hadn’t told him, or anyone else for the matter; there were so many things that Nick was slowly discovering, now that his head wasn’t kept prisoners by his own demons and fears: for God’s sake, he just found now how Brian used to be his legal guardian back then when they started travelling for Europe! – But I know nothing about the Brian before our paths crossed.”</p>
<p>“I was the same. Nothing more, nothing less.”</p>
<p>“That’s bullshit.”</p>
<p>Nick’s comment took Brian by surprise and, for a fraction of a moment, he feared that he knew way more than what Brian could predicted. But how? He had been careful, trying not to leaving behind a trail of clues and information that could led to that past that he wasn’t keen on sharing; he had made his family and Kevin swear not to ever talk about it and he had tried to keep his distance to whoever might had known him in the past. Nothing had been left uncovered, so how was it possible that Nick might know something?</p>
<p>“It’s not.” Brian just said, hoping to sound as firm as he used to be.</p>
<p>“It is. You never talk about high school; you never talk about your childhood!”</p>
<p>“Maybe because there is nothing to talk about.”</p>
<p>“Oh, come on! You played football! You were in the choir! How come you don’t have nothing to talk about?”</p>
<p>“Because I was a normal guy! A boring normal guy! – Since he couldn’t raise his voice, his therapist had advised him not to strain it too much, Brian got up from the bed as if he wanted to put some sort of distance between him and Nick. – I wasn’t the captain. I wasn’t popular. I was just a guy who used to play basketball and spent too many hours in a church.”</p>
<p>“And you didn’t have friends?”</p>
<p>“Of course, I did. But...”</p>
<p>“Who were they?”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“I just wanna know.”</p>
<p>“But why? Why is it so important to know who were my friends and what I used to do? Why is it so important to know about my childhood? Why now?”</p>
<p>“Because... – Nick had never felt so frustrated with Brian. Although even that was a sort of lie because there had been so many other times when he had thought he had never been that frustrated with the older man. - ... I just want to know everything about you. Why are you so afraid of letting me in?”</p>
<p>The question came as an accusation, or so Brian took it since it hit something that felt so much close to the truth. But he wasn’t afraid, that was the lie in those words. He wasn’t afraid. He just didn’t want to drag something of the past in his present, there was such a big and infinite difference between those two situations and emotions.</p>
<p>It wasn’t fear, Brian had to remind himself.</p>
<p>It wasn’t fear, it was self-preservation.</p>
<p>It wasn’t fear, he was just someone different from what his story might tell. And he liked the Brian Nick loved. He liked being that Brian, although now he had some issues to work out. He liked being the Brian Nick had met those years back in time; he liked having someone who looked up to him, instead than doubting his whole persona just because of some gossip that had been thrown around.</p>
<p>Was really that bad if he just wanted to keep being that Brian?</p>
<p>Was really that bad if he didn’t want to go back and having to rebuild everything?</p>
<p>Was really that bad if he didn’t want Nick to know how tainted and screwed up he was deep down?</p>
<p>“I’m letting you in.”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t feel like it.”</p>
<p>Brian wanted to scream. Brian wanted to stomp out of the room and run away, and only coming back when Nick would have come back to his senses and stopped being so childish and immature. Brian put a hold on his instinct, realizing that he would just give Nick another reason to keep being curious: getting angry and defensive wasn’t the right strategy here, it would only get Nick even more sceptic and suspicious.</p>
<p>He needed another way to get around the problem.</p>
<p>Brian walked around the bed and sat down right beside Nick; he put his hand on Nick’s arm as he leaned forward and brush his lips upon Nick’s. “I’m not hiding nothing too serious. I didn’t kill anybody, you know.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t thinking about that. Although...”</p>
<p>Brian couldn’t help the little smile curving his lips, as he shifted his body so that he would end up lying upon Nick’s body. “Do I look like a serial killer?”</p>
<p>“Well... – Nick started to say, just as Brian’s lips started to trace a line down his neck and chest. – You’re kind of killing me here.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Brian’s words were a breath of lust and desire on Nick’s skin, every break and pause alternated a shiver that had nothing to do with the soft breeze coming from the windows.</p>
<p>“You know, you still have some explaining to do.”</p>
<p>“Do I?” Brian asked, his lips so close to Nick’s ear as his fingertips were just reaching the hem of his pajamas.</p>
<p>“Oh yes. You need to explain where you learned these tricks.” Nick’s voice was deep with lust, rounded around the emotions that the sensations of having Brian’s body so close were raising up. Brian was a mystery, indeed. Brian, with that angel face and almost his hesitancy of saying and acting sexy in public or on stage, was totally a different person when there were just the two of them in the room: it shocked Nick. It made him wondered all about those years where they hadn’t been close, when they almost didn’t speak for almost a year; it made his mind fill with all those kind of images that left him with the thirst and desire to feel, taste and experience whatever Brian had done. Or been.</p>
<p>“You want to know too many things.”</p>
<p>“We have lot of time.”</p>
<p>“Have you ever wondered why no one, not even a journalist, has ever asked about my time before joining the group?” Brian asked as he came face to face with Nick, both arms standing close to his head and just a mere distance between them. Nick groaned at the sudden loss, his body already taunted and tensed up because of Brian’s hands.  </p>
<p>“Yes, I have.” Nick answered, a small grin already curving his lips and every part of his body longing and burning with desire.</p>
<p>“And what was your answer?” Brian questioned curios and a little surprised. Nick’s admission took him by surprise, as a lot of things that the younger man had done in those few last weeks. For a second, just that tiny fragment of time and space, Brian felt like as if he could really let himself go and confess everything.</p>
<p>“Those people are idiots.”</p>
<p>“Not that I don’t agree but why?”</p>
<p>With a sudden movement, Nick flipped both upside so that Brian was the one lying on the bed and Nick on the top of him, keeping him prisoner inside his arms. “Because you, Brian Thomas Littrell, are the most interesting and mysterious man in the whole universe.” And Nick was going to undiscover all those mysteries, no matter how long it would take him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've been working on this novel for years. <br/>More than a decade, actually.</p>
<p>It all started back when I was just a lonely Italian writer who, so inspired by "Mind Games" and disappointed that there weren't as many angst or Brian-centric stories, decided that it was her duty to fill out that gap. And so the original "Forces Of Nature" started and, still, it's something like 300 pages. Then, though, I started writing in English and it never seemed right to just translate that story, especially since I believe I have grown as an author through the years. </p>
<p>But I've always wanted to bring back that idea and finally give it an ending.</p>
<p>That's how this "Forces Of Nature" was born. I hope it's going to be an epic journey, filled with angst and thriller and, of course, so much Frick&amp;Frack. But it's going to be, mostly, a story about Brian. (who I thank not only for the endless inspiration but, also, because his tight privacy about his personal life gives me so much freedom to work with).</p></blockquote></div></div>
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